The North Channel - Lake Huron

Lake Huron’s North Channel

William T Boehm

July 2013

For some reason, cruising Lake Huron’s North Channel had always been an intimidating prospect for Deb and me.  Over the years, we’ve talked ourselves into believing that marinas are somehow safer; more comfortable than anchorages.  Never mind the fact that we both “tense up” every time we leave a dock or enter a marina.  Maybe it was that one time, back in the 1990s, when a drunk rammed us while at anchor in Put In Bay harbor….

We shouldn’t have these reservations.  I know that.  Our IP380, La Tasse, anchors easily and was outfitted for that purpose.  She has ground tackle to handle a hurricane, a windlass to raise and lower the “hook” and a diesel generator to provide juice when needed. She’s heavy, 13 tons, so she lies still at anchor in anything but a gale!  Besides, we know what we’re doing.  Well, most of the time anyway.  It’s not like we haven’t anchored a time or two over the years.

Still we resisted.  The North Channel that everybody said we “must do” seemed like a high hill for us to climb.  But the time for resisting was running out.  After spending five summers living aboard and logging about 4,000 Great Lakes nautical miles, we both agreed that 2013 would be our year to “do” the North Channel.  We left our home port of Manitowoc, WI in mid-June and slowly worked our way east to Michigan’s De Tour Village at the mouth of the St. Mary’s River.  We’d been there before, in 2010.  This time, rather than heading north to the Soo and Lake Superior, we were heading east.  The North Channel loons were calling.

 We decided against a night at near-by Drummond Island Marina and readied ourselves and La Tasse for a night at anchor.  Our plan was to anchor that first night at Harbor Island about 6 nm from De Tour.  But, the wind was blowing from the south and Harbor Island’s anchorage is open to the south.  So, we searched the charts for an alternative that was in U.S. waters, easy to navigate and reasonably close to De Tour.  We found Burnt Island.

After an easy 10nm trip north, there we were, comfortably anchored in sung Burnt Island anchorage.  Loons had greeted us upon our arrival earlier in the day.  We were securely anchored in soft, clean sand in about 12 feet of water. A soft breeze was blowing from the south leaving hardly a ripple on the water surface.  Our tummies were full. Grilled steak and vegetables with sweet corn on the side had done that trick.   I had a Jameson in my hand. We were experiencing one of the prettiest sunsets on earth.

Cruising the North Channel was going to be a great and enjoyable experience.  I just knew it!

North Channel Overview

Lake Huron’s North Channel is big water.  The Channel, at Lake Huron’s northern end, is formed by the Ontario mainland on the north and three large islands, Drummond (U.S.), Cockburn (Canadian) and Manitoulin, to the south.  At approximately 75 miles long and 30 miles wide (east end), Manitoulin Island is the largest fresh water island in the world. The waterway itself, stretching from DeTour Village on the west to Little Current on the east,  is 100 miles long by about 15 miles wide.  The Channel interior, particularly on the north, is dotted with hundreds of uninhabited islands and protected anchorages.  There are no large cities on either the Ontario coast or on the islands.  Communication with the outside world, particularly telephone, is a challenge.  The North Channel is remote but beautiful!

The North Channel is an important part of the waterway connecting the upper lakes.  For well over 100 miles, water-based travelers heading to/from the Soo and Lake Superior or the Straits of Mackinac and Lake Michigan are protected from the open waters of Lake Huron. Native Americans used this waterway with regularity, of course, long before the Europeans arrived.  For the Europeans, particularly the French, it was an important part of the trade route between Montreal and the upper lakes.

On to Meldrum Bay

Up early that mid-July morning, we charged the house batteries, made some coffee and listened to the loons complain about the noisy generator.  We pulled anchor and headed out weaving our way past several small islands with rocky outcroppings and shallow water.  Good practice, I thought!  Our destination, about 40 nm east, was Meldrum Bay, Ontario.  The wind which was light from the south was also mostly blanketed by the string of large islands to our south; Drummond, Cockburn and Manitoulin.  So, we motor sailed making good about 6 ½ knots per nm.  We arrived at Meldrum Bay about 12:30 pm.  It was a beautiful mid-summer day!

 Meldrum Bay is the most westerly village on Manitoulin Island and is about 60 miles west of Little Current.  The harbor itself is formed by a 2 mile long and 1 mile wide “bay” with a northern exposure to the Channel. Talk about quaint; Meldrum Bay is the very definition of the word.  The people were welcoming, cheerful, unassuming but confident.  The village docks were more than adequate, newly placed over the past few years.  The docks had potable water for the first time in 2013.  The boater services building which is also relatively new, was very basic.  It did, however, have a small, private and window-less room with a phone!  We used that space without incident to clear Canadian Customs. There was no internet service at the marina and no cell phone coverage in the harbor. But it was an undeniably beautiful place.

And it was home to the Meldrum Bay Inn!  The Inn was just a few hundred feet up the hill from the harbor.  The place was charming and the food was excellent. Customers, mostly the boaters, were allowed to access the Inn’s Wi-Fi service. The family that owns and operates the Inn also owns and operates the General Store next to it.  Those are the only two commercial buildings in town.

The town itself was settled in the 1870s, mostly as a fishing center.  The village was named after a town in Scotland.  It’s estimated that 50 hearty souls live in Meldrum Bay year-round but the immediate area is home to about 200 people.  The principle employer  is the large Lafarge dolomite quarry that is situated on the Mississagi Strait, the waterway separating Cockburn and Manitoulin Island, about 5 miles west of town.  Mostly, though, the people there “fend for themselves.” 

The boaters stopping here were all on their way to, or from, “the North Channel.” But first, everyone dined with Shirin and Bob Glover at the Meldrum Bay Inn! Many also picked up fresh pastries from Elena, the Glover’s daughter, at the General Store. We did…..

With two wonderful Meldrum Bay dinners under our belt (literally), we headed northeast about 25nm to John Island harbor. The trip was uneventful.  With a light 5knot south breeze, we had little choice but to motor.

John Island is on the north end of the Channel, at the western end of the Whalesback Channel.

John Island harbor is as “North Channel” as it gets.  Huge, naked rock formations are passed as one heads east toward the narrow and winding entrance to the harbor.  As first-timers we had little trouble entering the harbor on a calm day but the huge bolder just below the surface and well inside the harbor almost got us!  The rock, which is uncharacteristically marked on the nautical chart, was also characteristically marked with a bobbing white milk jug.  Thank God for the jug!

The day was hot, in the 90s.  But the evening sunset was spectacular.

I sat in the cockpit that evening thinking about the land and waterscape we had experienced over the past few days; huge naked rocks, high tree covered mountains in the distance, large and small islands of both rock and trees, very deep and very shallow water within feet of each other.  The diversity in this rather small geography was striking.  I wondered why…

The early days

That story begins about 3.8 billion years ago.  Don’t fret; we aren’t going there in very much detail.  Suffice it to say that the Great Lakes region generally and the North Channel specifically have a rather interesting geological history.

Continental land masses drift across the surface of the planet. They have been doing it for hundreds of millions of years and are still doing it today. In the process, they sometimes collide with each other, creating enormous mountain ranges and then volcanoes along the impact zone. Such collisions have also left significant climate changes in their wake giving rise to but also destroying entire life systems on the planet. Continental land masses also break apart along “fault lines” that are part of their “under belly.” When they break apart, new, smaller land masses are set adrift.  

Five hundred million years ago what was eventually to become the North American land mass was much further south. Its shape didn’t really resemble the continent we know today.   Its south eastern coastline, essentially at the equator, ran roughly along the St Lawrence and the Great Lakes basin.   Marine life in the warm and rather shallow water along that tropical coast worked magic for about 50 million years depositing calcium rich shells that mixed with layers of eroded shoreline to create sand and limestone formations  that are still visible in the Great lakes region today particularly along the Niagara escarpment.  

The Niagara escarpment itself is the result of continental collision.  When the “North American” plate slid beneath the “European” plate some 450 million years ago it triggered mountain building and volcanoes along the impact zone, North America’s east coast.  Volcanic ash covered much of Ontario and the northeastern U.S. Eventually, through erosion, the ash became mud and covered the limestone deposits left over from the regions “coastal” days.  The collision also reheated the bedrock and created the hardened form of limestone we call dolomite.  The Niagara escarpment is essentially dolomite-capped limestone. The escarpment, which begins in the area of Niagara Falls, arches across southern Ontario up the Bruce Peninsula and Manitoulin Island to northern Michigan and the Door Peninsula in Wisconsin.  From there it heads generally west through southern Wisconsin before fading out and becoming hardly traceable across the Mississippi River.  The dolomite creating the escarpment is hard, so hard that it has been able to resist erosion by wind, water and ice for more than 400 million years.  It has left us with many of the awesome views we enjoy in the Great Lakes region today.

But, there’s more to the story.

Between the North Channel’s north shore and Manitoulin Island, North America’s “core,” the Canadian or Precambrian Shield, is in evidence. The Shield itself is a broad region of very old, mostly volcanic rock that encircles Hudson Bay and includes the land area around much of Lake Superior.  Its southern end roughly tracks the St Lawrence and northern Great Lakes including, of course, the North Channel.  Like dolomite, the “Shield” rock is very hard. It, too, has withstood Mother Nature’s attacks for hundreds of millions of years.  

About 50 million years ago, North America looked pretty much as we know her today.  The continent was situated with Manitoulin Island at about 45 degrees north.  In its “new“ location on the globe, things cooled down for The North Channel region and indeed most of what is now North America.  I mean, really cooled down.  On and off  for about the last million years, an eye blink in geological time, advancing and retreating glaciers have moved across the Great Lakes region scraping and digging the water basins we observe today. The hardened dolomite–capped limestone of the Niagara escarpment and the volcanic rock of the Canadian Shield, for the most part, resisted the glaciers. Together they teamed up to give us the global treasure we call America’s Great Lakes.

 I was sitting in a spot that reflected it all!

On to Gore Bay

We left John Island harbor the next morning.  The weather forecast for the day was fine but conditions were deteriorating.  We wanted to be safely settled in Gore Bay marina before we had to worry about the weather.

The 18 nm trip southeast to Gore Bay was a treat.  After clearing the well marked passage between Scott and Mills Island, we hoisted all sail and took advantage of an 8 knot northeasterly breeze on our beam.  To be under sail was gratifying to say the least!  We made short work of the distance and arrived in Gore Bay about 1:30 pm.  To our surprise and delight, we were greeted by our friends Jim Monson and Frances Lee.  Dock mates in Manitowoc Marina, they have extensive North Channel cruising experience and, like us, they live aboard in the summer months.  Earlier that summer, in Leland, Michigan harbor, they shared their time and experience helping us prepare for the trip.  It’s always good to see familiar faces when you’re cruising.  It’s particularly nice when they help with the docking!

 Gore Bay, about 30 miles east of Meldrum Bay was, we discovered, the commercial center of Manitoulin Island. The marina facilities were among the best we have experienced anywhere on the Great Lakes. They had every service you would want or need, partly because they operate a rather large sailboat charter fleet out of the harbor. We had 3G Sprint coverage for the first time in weeks which meant we had both telephone and internet service.  The free marina internet coverage was also quite adequate.  Provisioning was easy in Gore Bay with groceries, pharmaceuticals, hardware and liquor all within easy walking distance from the docks.  Like Meldrum Bay, Gore Bay is an indentation from the main Channel, but smaller.  It, too, is open to the north.

The weather changed as predicted while we were in Gore Bay.  Indeed it did.  The good Lord dropped 4” of rain overnight and additional 2” the next morning.  I should have left the dinghy in the davits.  Now, and after finding the hand pump, I had work to do! But the rain did help cool things down as daily highs moved from the 90s to the mid-70s.  That’s one reason people like us love the Great Lakes!

While in Gore Bay, we were joined by Kathy and Mike Cooper, friends from South Carolina.  Kathy was on a quest.  Her Indiana family had vacationed on Manitoulin Island when she was a child, at a property on Mindemoya Lake. She hadn’t been back in years and wasn’t even sure she would recall the property.  After spending time with us aboard La Tasse, they planned to fill in the empty pieces to that puzzle.

Clapperton and Kagawong

We left Gore Bay after enjoying their annual harbor festival.   The weekend festival, typical of the area, included cardboard boat races, a more aggressive motorized dinghy race and, of course, the Elks Club fish fry, complete with a band and locally caught, and fresh, Whitefish! The weather was cool that Sunday morning, just 58 degrees at 7 am.  The wind was east at about 6 knots giving us an opportunity to sail the 3 miles down the bay back to the Channel.  After that, we were headed east about 12 nm to Clapperton Island and the wind was mostly on our nose.  The “iron jenny” was again called into action. 

Part of the challenge with Clapperton Island’s harbor is getting there, particularly from the west.  Transiting the North Channel from west to east along Manitoulin’s coast requires a successful navigation of the Clapperton Channel.  The Clapperton Channel is a 4 mile long maze; a water passage through boulders and shallows. It’s narrow, so much so that at times it feels like you’re going to touch the adjacent red and green channel markers.  Its crooked requiring sharp turns to stay in good water.  It’s shallow, seldom more than 8’.  On the positive side, the water is incredibly clear meaning you can easily see the huge boulders on either side or 3’ below your keel! (I can still hear Kathy saying, in a startled tone, “my God, Bill, look at the size of those rocks!” Just then, I really didn’t need to hear that…). Even the locals avoid the Clapperton Channel in anything but good weather.  So, why use it at all, you ask?  The alternative around the north end of Clapperton Island adds about 15nm to the trip.

Clapperton Harbor, created by Clapperton Island and Harbour Island is, or more appropriately was, a cruisers play-pen.  The harbor itself is huge, has generally good protection from most winds, good holding and, we’re told, great fishing.  (We tried the fishing thing but had no luck!).

 Nearly dead center in Clapperton’s south-facing crescent is Harbour Island. For many years beginning in the 1930s, the island was a resort retreat for the wealthy.  Following a shut-down during World War II, the resort re-opened in 1949 as the Harbour Island Yacht and Fishing Club.  The developer, Harold Hutchings, sought to create an oasis in the cruising “wilderness.”  He did just that.  In 1962, the Club had over 2,000 members. Some of its many visitors had names like John Wayne and Bob Hope!  The large buildings and substantial docks were a testament to both the wealth that supported the place and its popularity.  In 1962, Harold Hutchings died unexpectedly and continued operation of the Club became a challenge.  After years of disuse, the resort got new starts in the 1970s and 1980s but never quite caught on.  The now badly damaged property was used for the last time in 1989.

After an enjoyable overnight in Clapperton Harbor, we raised anchor and headed 6 nm south back to Manitoulin Island and the town of Kagawong.  

Kagawong, at the southern end of Mudge Bay, and about 16nm east of Gore Bay (9 nm as the crow flies) was an experience of contrasts.  This rather large bay is also unprotected from the north.  The town of 64 people has few services. The marina is small, very tight and has poorly constructed docks. In retrospect, we had no business being in there overnight with a 40’ sailboat.  When the wind shifted unexpectedly and blew 30 plus knots from the northwest it created a surge in the marina that was nearly untenable.  I was honestly, and I think appropriately, concerned that the docks might break loose and take our boat with them.  Thankfully, that didn’t happen. 

But after all that, this place is a keeper.  The 2 mile walk along the Kagawong River to the Bridal Falls was well worth the effort.  Our visit to the “Mariner’s Church in town was special.  Inside the church one finds the bow of a pleasure boat being used as the pulpit.  That bow is what’s left of a boat carrying six passengers west bound through the Clapperton Channel in a summer storm in August 1965. Four people, including two children, died that day when their vessel struck rocks in the turbulent channel. The bow was salvaged two years later by church members and now serves their church as a memorial. The town Museum and Art Gallery, once the town’s extensive pulp mill and then later the source of electrical power for Manitoulin Island, was also very good. 

Kagawong bills itself as “Ontario’s Prettiest Village.”  While that may be a stretch, it is worth a visit.

Leaving Kagawong required a little creativity.  The wind was still blowing from the northwest but just 10 knots.  We had to back to port, our left, to safely leave the small marina.  Luckily, we were tied to starboard.  We knew La Tasse wouldn’t back to port by herself under those conditions. Applying Mike’s casting skills, we were able to fetch and then attach a line from the adjacent dock to our stern, portside cleat and “spring” La Tasse into position.  We cheered our success as we left Kagawong harbor!

The trip east to Little Current was without incident but I must admit, I needed some time to gather myself.  The night before was a learning experience, to say the least.  Luckily, nothing bad happened.  For that and the fact that I always carry a ton of extra dock lines, I was thankful.  While I chilled out, and despite favorable wind conditions, we motor sailed to Little Current.  I’m not sure my crew understood.     

Little Current, the gateway city between North Channel and the Georgian Bay, is considered by many as the hub of North Channel cruising.  We can’t be counted with that crowd.  While the Government Dock has adequate slips and wall space, its facilities are only adequate.  We were warned that the current in the channel could be a serious docking problem.  For us, on those days, it wasn’t. Cell coverage in the city of 2,500 was non-existent unless you count the “cell phone booster” advertised in the window at Turner’s (the local, and terrific, department store).  The marina Wi-Fi was overwhelmed most of the time so I used the local bakery in town instead.  Great compromise, I think.

 In truth, Little Current is the primary place for North Channel cruisers to dump garbage, pump-out holding tanks, take on fuel, water and supplies, and take off-the-boat showers. All are necessary, of course, when you’re spending most of your time on the hook.  We didn’t dislike Little Current at all.  In fact, we enjoyed our time there.  It just wasn’t what we had been expecting.

And, that’s really the point, I guess.  We’re so spoiled by our modern conveniences.  For most of us, communication is instantaneous.  We expect that to be the case everywhere.  Services are ubiquitous.  In our smallish, rural village of 3,000, Kewaunee, WI, we fuss over the fact that we don’t have chain fast food or take-out pizza.  Our roads are paved and, in the winter months, plowed while it snows!  We seldom lose electricity.  The propane man comes without being called because he’s monitoring our usage by watching the thermometer.  Garbage pick-up is curb-side, every Thursday, even in the country.

It’s not like that for the people who live and raise their families in the North Channel, on Manitoulin Island.  They don’t have all those conveniences.  They do without. And they are doing just fine as far as I could tell.  So, too, apparently did their ancestors.  But, who were they?  Where did they come from?

Here come the Homo sapiens!

The earliest documented histories we have of the people who lived in the area are from the French, starting around 1615.  Europeans had been fishing and trading in the Gulf of St Lawrence since John Cabot sailed to area from England in 1497.  In 1534 and shortly after his arrival Jacques Cartier “claimed” New France for his King, despite objections from the locals, by posting a sign on the edge of the St Lawrence! Cartier’s own record makes it clear that he knew full well that the region had been previously visited/discovered by other Europeans and that the property was already claimed by the current inhabitants. Champlain, who enters the picture in 1603, sent his emissary, Etienne Brule, to the interior of Ontario in 1610.  Living among the Native Algonquin, it’s almost a certainty that Brule left Montreal with his escorts by canoe following the Ottawa River to Lake Nipissing and then up the French River to the Georgian Bay and North Channel.  While Champlain takes the credit, it’s quite likely that Brule was the first European to actually see America’s “sweet water seas.”  Little did he know, I suppose, that such a trip would establish a trade and communication route that would be extensively traveled by European fur traders for the next 200 years.

Champlain met with the Odawa in Georgian Bay in 1615.  Those Anishnaabe (“first people”) told Champlain that Manitoulin Island was their homeland.  From that point forward, the written record, mostly French, is pretty clear that the islands and waters of the North Channel were occupied, fished, farmed and settled long before the Europeans arrived.  Initially, it didn’t matter since the importance of the area to the Europeans was the protection it afforded their voyageurs and “coureurs des bois” from Lake Huron and the access to furs from lakes Michigan and Superior.

The historical record from the time of Champlain’s visit to about 1800 is sketchy.   We do know that a Jesuit, Father Joseph Poncet, established and served a Mission on Manitoulin Island from 1648-50. By consensus, he is believed to be the first European to settle on the island. His stay was short-lived.  Over the years, the natives on the Island had been decimated by the diseases induced by European contact.  Perhaps as important, beginning in the 1600s, the Iroquois had moved their war with the Algonquin north eventually forcing them off their North Channel islands.  Tradition has it that the Algonquin burned Manitoulin Island as they left in about 1650.  From 1650 until the 1800s there is little recorded history from the area.  The islands of the North Channel, including Manitoulin, remained essentially uninhabited for about 150 years.

The War of 1812 was a significant turning point for the area in many ways.  First, the English and the upstart Americans had to sort out a boundary, really arguing over lands that weren’t theirs in the first place. The North Channel was at the heart of it all since both countries needed water access to the Soo and Lake Superior. Then, with boundaries pretty well established and completion of the Erie Canal in 1825, European immigrants from the east had relatively easy access to the Great Lakes.

Both the US and Canadian governments looked for ways to make room for the on-rush of white settlers. The Indians had to go. The US did it mostly by force, continually chasing the Native Americans to newly created reservations in the west.  Canada took a more creative route.  In 1836 the Bond Head Treaty established Manitoulin Island as the nation’s (really Ontario’s) “reservation.”  The Indians of Upper Canada were to remove themselves to the “safety” of Manitoulin Island where they would be protected from white encroachment.  Never mind that the relatively poor soil on the island could hardly support what was there already.  Even so, the Native Americans on the island agreed to accept any tribes or clans that wished to make the island their home.

The plan didn’t work.  Few of Canada’s native population voluntarily relocated to the island. Around 1860, the Canadian Government went looking for more land for the newly arriving white settlers.  Besides, and to the disgust of enterprising immigrants, the natives on Manitoulin Island were beginning to set up business ventures to serve the growing water-based trade with food, fuel and other supplies. Indians weren’t supposed to be able to do that.  

The Canadian government, in a strange interpretation, concluded that the Treaty of 1836 had actually given them title to Manitoulin Island!  It was now their right to open the island to white settlement.  The Indians on Manitoulin Island aggressively resisted.  Throughout the summer and fall of 1862, force was threatened by representatives of the Crown.  Still, the natives resisted, even as late as October 4th.  In what remains a cloud of unknowns, a “signed” Treaty was presented on October 6^th and the way opened for white settlement on the island. Historians generally accept the Treaty as a fraud.  All in the name of progress, I suppose.  Whatever it takes…..

There is one exception to this story however.  In an effort to quell the anger created by a fake treaty, and do so without bloodshed, the Government made a concession.  As it turns out, the Treaty bore no signature from the Chief of a settlement on the far eastern end of the island, Wikwemikong. As a result, that property was never ceded to the Federal Government.  The reserve remains unceded to this very day. It’s the only such property in all of Canada.

The period from about 1845-1900 was the “industrial” age for the North Channel.  First, early in the period, came the discovery of copper on Lake Superior’s Keweenaw Peninsula and then at Bruce Mines in the North Channel.  Later, as the mines played out and the lumber resources from Michigan and Wisconsin were being depleted, American firms set up camp in the North Channel and began extensive logging operations.  In the 1890s, North Channel fishing reached its high point.  Along the way, these industries supported a number of communities and a water transport system through the North Channel that even included passenger voyages from the population centers on the lower lakes to the Soo and beyond.

Setting aside the beaver, it only took the enterprising Europeans about 50 years to harvest the commercially “useful” natural resources of the North Channel region. When the resources were depleted, the people left and “growth” stagnated.

Thankfully, the natural beauty that exists in this corner of the Great Lakes has largely withstood man’s onslaught.  Without commercially viable mines, timber or fisheries, the area has been essentially “left alone” for the past 100 years.  Only about 15,000 people live year-round in the region with about 5,000 of them on the approximately 10 reservations.  Traffic jams are rare. The summers are cool and the days are long.  This large body of fresh water with its hundreds of anchorages is still very much protected from open Lake Huron. Today’s affordable electronics including depth sounders, chart plotters,  radar, GPS and the VHF radio have made the areas navigational challenges much easier to tackle.  And, that’s what attracts the pleasure boaters to the area and cottage industry to serve them!

Eagle Island

We said good-by to the Coopers.  They were off to solve “the mystery of Mindemoya Lake.”  We, on the other hand, had a date with an anchorage on the eastern end of the Whalesback Channel.  And, we had to travel past the Benjamins to get there! From there we would start the trip homeward.

We left Little Current on an overcast morning.  The wind was blowing about 10 knots from the south, just enough for us to motor sail along our generally northwestern heading.  The trip to Eagle Island anchorage was about 25nm.

Eagle Island harbor is about 5nm NW of Clapperton, on the eastern end of the Whalesback Channel. The harbor is a natural crescent with its “open” ends facing NE.  The “open” side of the harbor is, however, protected by Frechette Island making it essentially closed to all winds. The Island itself is wooded. Dead center in the anchorage is one of the prettiest small islands to be found in the Great Lakes.

Eagle Island’s neighbor to the east is the Benjamin Islands Group, a circular pattern of islands formed by the two Benjamins (North and South), Fox and Croker.  This large harbor, difficult to get into, is one of the more popular in the North Channel.  The concentric pattern created by this island group is actually a 1,450 million year old molten rock formation that has eroded  to create the harbor.  The islands in this group are mostly exposed, pink granite.  We didn’t anchor in the Benjamins but were able to admire its charm on the way to and from Eagle.

Concluding Thoughts

We left Eagle Island anchorage on an overcast and misty morning.  On the 18nm trip back to Gore Bay it would rain, hard at times.  That didn’t seem to be a problem for either of us. In spite of the rain, we could see clearly, both literally and figuratively.  Our North Channel adventure was coming to an end.  Within a number of days we would be back in the good old USA with cell phones, internet and TV.  Certainly, we looked forward to the unhurried trip home.  But a part of us, even for Deb, would remain in the North Channel. 

Recreational boaters come in droves, every summer, to enjoy this “Midwestern Caribbean.”   Many come back year after year.  In the summer of 2013, we joined them.  We’re very glad we did!

   

Door County Wisconsin 2012

 Door County, WI

                                                                    William T Boehm

January 2013

Sometimes things just don’t work out.  We were supposed to be exploring the northern half of the Bay of Green Bay including Upper Michigan’s Big and Little Bay de Noc.  Instead, it was July 9^th and I was at home writing a trip update for family and friends. Nothing serious; no real problems; it’s just that you can’t live aboard a boat on the Great Lakes without a waste water holding tank.  So, after just 20 days on the water, we were at home waiting on a tank replacement.  

Green Bay is a large body of Lake Michigan water protected by Wisconsin’s Door Peninsula (essentially, Wisconsin’s “thumb”).  The Bay itself is about 125 miles long and about 20 miles wide. Our home, south of Kewaunee, WI, is on the Lake Michigan side of the Door Peninsula about 40 miles southwest of Sturgeon Bay. 

The Door Peninsula

We moved aboard La Tasse on June 16^th and that afternoon attended the wedding celebration of good friends and neighbors. The wedding party with some 500 guests in an outdoor setting was greeted that evening with a steady and sometimes hard rain; we had been without rain for about three weeks. No one complained.  One young woman, with a huge smile on her face, remarked that she actually “saw the corn grow” as she drove to the party.  I believe she did.  Nature can be funny that way.  We all want “good weather” until we live without rain or, in Wisconsin, without snow and cold in the winter.  I’ve learned to take the weather as it comes and then adjust to accommodate natures’ annoyances.  I feel good about that personal victory.

 The next morning, with a mostly sunny sky and a SW breeze, we left Manitowoc Marina and headed for Kewaunee Harbor, our hometown, about 25 miles north.  It was our 40^th wedding anniversary.  And what a day we had. The wind and weather conditions allowed us to actually sail for nearly the entire trip. That’s very rare for coastal cruising sailors despite the stories one hears. Bubbly, of course, upon arrival and then dinner at The Cork!  May there be forty more! 

 Sturgeon Bay

Sturgeon Bay is the official southern “entry” to Door County and the Bay.  The city has about 10,000 year-round residents.  It’s the commercial center for the county and lies about half way up the Door Peninsula between the city of Green Bay (south) and Washington Island (north).

The 27nm trip from Kewaunee on June 19^th took about 4 hours.  A line of thunder storms had passed north of us earlier that morning so our departure from Kewaunee was delayed until about 9:30 am.  It was hazy on the lake but visibility was never less than about 2 miles.  We tried to sail but with little wind, we furled our sails and motored.  It was our first trip along this coast so the limited visibility was a disappointment. After about 10 nm we spotted Algoma off our port bow. We continued northeast another 15nm and motored into the Sturgeon Bay Ship Canal. 

 The Sturgeon Bay Ship Canal is a manmade channel approximately 6 miles in length connecting Sturgeon Bay with Lake Michigan.  It was a heavily traveled portage by Native Americans long before the European settlers began digging in an effort to shorten the distance and increase the safety of the water passage from Chicago to Green Bay.  The canal is actually in two parts, a dredged portion of Sturgeon Bay (5 Miles) and a 1.3 mile section dug through the eastern side of the Door Peninsula. Using the canal shortens the Green Bay to Chicago passage by about 150 miles, or 20%, compared to the alternative of rounding the Peninsula at Porte des Morts, “Death’s Door.”

Historians dispute the claim that the canal “created” an island of the northern half of the Door Peninsula.  They believe that by digging the canal the European settlers actually removed silted soil that had clogged the natural passage between the mainland and the island that we now consider part of the Door Peninsula. Historical accounts of the work on the canal give considerable credibility to their claim.  One early proposal was to dig about one-half mile north of the current canal location.  There, the diggers found bedrock just below the soil surface; not an easy dig.  While digging the softer sandy soil at the present location, diggers found evidence of trees embedded in and buried by sand. By canal digging standards, the Sturgeon Bay Ship Canal was a short and easy dig.  I suspect the historians are right.  But since Europeans found the island connected to the mainland, they assumed it was part of the Door Peninsula and never gave it a name!

Construction on the canal began in 1872 after a decade of discussion and debate. Articles of incorporation were drawn up in 1864 and were signed by approximately thirty influential business and political leaders from Lake Michigan’s coastal cities and the U.S. east coast. But, real progress came slowly.  The canal was finally completed in 1879.  It was built initially as a business venture; ships passing through paid a toll to the owners.  Government assistance for the project consisted of a land grant, range lights for the Dunlap Reef near the city and a light and fog signal on the breakwater on the Lake Michigan end (the north Pierhead Light).  The original canal was about 1.5 miles long, 125 feet wide and 6 feet deep.  These days, the canal is dredged to about 20’ along its entire length making it deep enough for the large cargo vessels, the “lakers,” that ply the Great Lakes waters in most years from April through January.  In the winter months, as many as fifteen lakers will lay up in Sturgeon Bay for both repair and safekeeping.

 After the U.S. Government purchased the canal in 1893 Congress authorized construction of a more powerful and higher light for the canal entrance.  It was not until 1898 that a light was finally in place.  However, the original 78’ tower vibrated in the wind which interfered with the operation of the light’s clockwork.  It would be four years and several attempts before the problem was finally solved with a tower redesign that remains in place today.

The Sturgeon Bay Ship Canal

We passed the historic North Pierhead light, looked up at the impressive light tower we’d been watching through the haze for about 40 minutes and slowed to the required 3 knots as we passed the Coast Guard Station.

 Once inside the canal, the haze was gone. We cleared the Bay View Bridge and docked about 20 minutes later at Center Point Marina.  We were in Door County! 

Door County Wisconsin

Door County is considered by many to be the “Cape Cod of the Midwest.”  It’s a year-round playground for vacationers from Minnesota, Iowa, Illinois, and Indiana and, of course, Wisconsin. The population of the county, normally about 30,000, swells to 250,000 during the summer months. Most tourists flock to the “bay side” of the Peninsula leaving the more rugged and wild “Lake side” for the locals and the more adventuresome. Besides, spectacular sunsets across the Bay regularly treat visitors in a way that is impossible from Wisconsin’s Lake Michigan Shore (which faces east).

 Door County Sunset

Europeans settled the Door Peninsula relatively late, in the 1850s and 1860s mostly, but the waters of the Bay have been traveled by them since the 1600s.  Jean Nicolet was sent west along Lake Michigan’s north coast by Samuel de Champlain in 1634 to form alliances with Native Americans and advance French fur trading interests in the area.  After leaving Mackinac Island by canoe he “coasted” through the Straits and ultimately passed a string of islands (Summer, Poverty, St Martin, Rock and Washington among them) that protected the entrance to the Bay of Green Bay.  He followed the Bay waters west and south stopping several times at spots along the Door Peninsula. Eventually he reached the Native American Winnebago stronghold at Red Banks just northeast of the mouth of the Fox River. The palisaded Winnebago city had a population of more than 15,000. Nicolet thought he had reached the China coast and so he paraded in a colorful robe firing pistols into the air! Needless to say, he made quite an impression on the locals.  After the dust settled, literally, I suppose, Nicolet established a trading post near the town.  Some say that makes Green Bay, WI one of the oldest permanent settlements in America. Keep in mind that his “permanent settlement,” a trading post, was positioned nearby a rather permanent city of more than 15,000 Winnebago! 

That chance discovery of the Fox River by Nicolet played an important role in the ultimate settlement of America’s “west” as it was the long traveled Native American route to the Mississippi via the Wisconsin River with a portage from the Fox (at Portage, WI). It also opened a water route for transporting the regions vast natural resources (lumber, limestone, iron ore and grain) to the south and east. But change came slowly to the area.  It would take 130 years before Charles de Langlade moved to Green Bay with his family becoming the state’s first permanent white settlers. As late as 1820, Green Bay and Prairie du Chien (at the mouth of the Wisconsin River) were Wisconsin’s only important European population centers.

Door County’s western coast

We left Sturgeon Bay on June 22^nd and headed north and east along the ship channel and into the Bay.  The sun was shining and the wind blew gently from the NW.  The coastline views along this route were spectacular.  The site of roughly 50 white Pelicans skimming the water surface just north of Sturgeon Bay made it all the more enjoyable.

We reached Egg Harbor about 1 pm and docked with a comfortable outside tie at their new village marina.  Egg Harbor is a deep water harbor, one of the few along this coast.  The new marina makes it a comfortable and enjoyable stop for cruisers. We spent two days exploring this wonderful harbor.  We’ve been coming to Egg Harbor by car for many years.  We even rented a vacation cottage there some 35 years ago.  Somehow, Egg Harbor seems to be more alive these days.  That’s good, I think.

Fish Creek is just 5nm northeast of Egg Harbor.  It’s Tourist Central for Door County.  We sailed about half the distance with a gentle NW breeze averaging only about 3 knots.  But, what’s the rush? The sun was warm and we didn’t have far to go.  After navigating into a tight slip at Alibi Marina, we had a nice brunch and enjoyed a lazy afternoon.  Next day, we were joined by good friends and family, Julie and Lee Zebro.  Lee had a business trip so Julie, Deb and I enjoyed Fish Creek on our own.  The ladies went shopping and I found a bar.  Don’t laugh.  I learned a great deal from an attractive, 30ish year-old bar tender who hunted bear with her husband and their Black & Tan hounds!  Now that’s the Door County I love!

 Tight fit in Fish Creek

We left Fish Creek on June 27^th and headed for Nicolet (Shanty) Bay anchorage.  The wind was light but blowing from the south. The forecast called for the southerly winds to strengthen so Nicolet Bay, with protection from southerly winds, was the obvious choice for an overnight anchorage. A few miles northeast of Fish Creek, we passed Eagle Bluff light.  What a site she was. Eagle Bluff light was approved by Congress in July 1866.  However, it was not until October 1868 that the light was ready to assist mariners navigate the narrow and dangerous Strawberry Channel.  

Eagle Bluff Light

Indeed, Door County is a lighthouse haven with more lights per mile of coastline than perhaps anywhere in the U.S.

On a quiet summer day, the waters of Green Bay present a deceivingly simple navigational challenge. Upon closer inspection one finds that the Bay is crowded with islands and shoals and is wide open to the cold northwesterly winds that frequently blow across her shallow waters. Green Bay can be dangerous, particularly at her northern entrance from Lake Michigan, Porte des Morts or “Death’s Door.”   This confluence of forces (dangerous passages and compelling commercial interests) ultimately made Door County home for 13 separate light stations protecting navigation in four distinct areas along the Peninsula’s rugged coast (the northern entrance, at Bailey’s Harbor along the Lake Michigan coast, at Chambers Island in the Bay and through the ship canal at Sturgeon Bay).  Thirty Detroit area Lake merchants and vessel owners petitioned Congress in 1832 to build a light at the northern entrance to the Bay. The Pottawatomie Light on Rock Island, the areas first, did not shine until 1837.

We entered the anchorage about 11 am.  There were about 10 boats already anchored.  The sandy beach was busy as this coast is part of the Peninsula State Park property. What a pretty place.  Horseshoe Island was visible off our stern, the village of Ephraim and Eagle Harbor off to the southeast and sandstone bluffs all around. It was a classic Door County picture!  We dropped our anchor in about 17’ of water, let out 60’ of chain and found good holding in the sandy mud bottom.  The wind picked up that afternoon and eventually reached about 15 knots.  We never moved.  Dinner was a grill special with brats and cob corn.  By 8 pm the wind died and things generally calmed down.

 Nicolet Bay Anchorage

We don’t anchor enough.  Goodness knows, we have the boat for it.  Our ground tackle was designed to hold La Tasse in a hurricane.  We have more than ample battery power storage and, besides, we have a diesel generator aboard.  Even with all that, Deb prefers terra firma; most of the time, so do I.  But, there’s something special about anchoring, I think.  Besides the quiet and the natural beauty of a protected anchorage, it feels natural.  Boats, particularly sailboats, are supposed to swing at anchor, don’t you know…..

Next morning I was up at 6 am.  I sat in the cockpit and enjoyed the sunrise in this beautiful place. It’s not surprising that people still flock to this spot, I thought. Archeological digs have found artifacts from a village in this bay that existed about 400 BC. It is believed that the Door Peninsula has been inhabited by humans for about 11,000 years. Indeed, Door County has the most concentrated evidence of Native American community life of anywhere in the entire state of Wisconsin.  Artifacts including tools, sketches, pottery, cemeteries, and corn fields have been found in numerous places but particularly along the bay shore and on Washington Island.

Sister Bay was our next port of call.  We left the anchorage about 9:30 am and headed northeast about 6nm. Alas, no wind.  So, once again, we motored. The bay was hazy and the temperature an uncomfortable and humid 83 degrees.

Sister Bay’s downtown is smaller than Fish Creek and life is slower there than in Egg Harbor.  You can almost feel things slow down as you head north to the tip of the Peninsula.  The community “sells” itself today largely as a Swedish settlement.  Al Johnson’s Swedish restaurant, complete with live goats grazing on the roof, is the tourist attraction in town. 

Al Johnson's Restaurant

The land surrounding Sister Bay was a timbered wilderness as late as 1880.  Before then, in the late 1860s, Swedish woodcutters from Marinette came to harvest the native forests over the winter months.  They did not plan to stay.  But, the land was cheap, gently rolling, comparatively free of stone and fertile; once the trees were gone, of course. So, as the trees were cleared, some of the woodcutters stayed on as farmers. By 1870, Sister Bay had a pier, sawmill and gristmill. Water accessibility and the mills brought more woodcutters and, eventually, more Swedish settlers.

In the late 1870s a few Swedish families organized a Baptist church in Sister Bay.  Over the years, the congregation grew in both size and influence. That’s not always a good thing. For many years, saloons were barred from Sister Bay and nearby Liberty Grove. Things change, though, as we enjoyed three fine dinners complete with “adult” beverages while in Sister Bay. 

June 29, 2012 is a day that will “live in infamy” as far as I’m concerned.  Early that day, we noticed an offensive odor in the cabin.  Initially, I thought it was just stale bilge water.  I cleaned and pumped the bilge hoping that would solve the problem.  It didn’t. I knew what it was.  I’d been there before, about ten years ago.  The 40 gallon aluminum waste water holding tank was leaking.  There’s no way to “fix” a problem like that while underway.  The tank, which is positioned below the cabin sole, needed to be removed and replaced. We had no choice but to return home for the challenging and expensive repair.

Despite the obvious problem, however, we did spend two additional days in Sister Bay visiting the area by car. There were many trips to the Boaters lounge at the marina.  And we made extensive use of the restroom facilities in every restaurant we visited. Probably too much information….

Washington Island

Washington Island lies off the northern end of the Door Peninsula.  At about 24 square miles and nearly as wide as it is long, it’s the largest island in the chain between the Wisconsin mainland and Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.  It’s the only one of those islands that today has permanent residents.  Approximately 700 hearty soles live there year-round.  The only access to the island is by boat. (Well, okay, they do have a small public airport with two grass runways…).  A car ferry service runs to and from the Island year-round bringing mostly tourists in the summer and mostly supplies to the island during the winter months.  The Washington Island Ferry has been operated continuously by the same family since 1940.

We boarded the ferry at the Northport dock, at the end of Highway 42.  It was a beautiful summer day, about 80 degrees with a light breeze from the west.  I looked out across Death’s Door and thought about the string of islands that would eventually lead to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.  We were supposed to be making this trip with La Tasse, I thought.  Someday, we will. But on this day, we were depending on someone else to take us across these historical waters. Death’s Door, we were crossing Death’s Door, I thought.

For about 150 years, this chain of islands was home to the Potawatomi and a number of other minor tribes.  The Potawatomi, an easy going and welcoming people, had been driven from the Peninsula by the Winnebago in the early part of the 17^th century.  Their plan to dominate the area included driving the Potawatomi off the islands as well. That plan failed when many Winnebago warriors were lost in a battle with the Potawatomi in the water and along the mainland shore near present day Deathdoor Bluff.  The Winnebago took the defeat as a sign from the Manitou that they were not to cross “Death’s Door.” So, they didn’t.  When the French arrived, they learned the name from the Winnebago and the name stuck.

Early Europeans settled on Washington and nearby Rock Island to fish.  Historical accounts from the mid 1800s tell us that this waterway was the best fishing ground in the region. Records of lake trout consistently as big 50-70 pounds with fishermen catching more than 100 in a day rather dramatically make the point.  There’s an interesting story about a fishing settlement on the Island’s west coast, at West Harbor, in the early 1850s.  The fishermen were Black.  The leader among them was a man named Bennett.  He was a bit of an Evangelist, we’re told.  But his real claim to fame links him to Perry’s victory over the British on Lake Erie in 1813.  Bennett was Perry’s cabin boy and accompanied him when he transferred from the badly damaged Lawrence to the Niagara.  Next time, look closely at the famous painting of that historic event and you’ll see Mr. Bennett, a Black boy, at Perry’s side! Mr. Bennett died on Washington Island in 1854.

We passed Plum Island off our starboard and shortly after entered the channel to Detroit Harbor.  The entrance channel itself was surprisingly unremarkable.  The entrance light stands just 25’ off the water.  It was all less than I had expected.  After all, this harbor provided refuge for hundreds of schooners during the golden age of sail, roughly 1850 – 1900. The harbor itself is formed by a crescent of Washington Island that is oriented south and one off Detroit Island that is oriented north.  It’s a shallow harbor, averaging just 8-10 feet in the center. The anchorage, though, is rather large, about 1 square nm.  That day, a beautiful day during the July 4^th week, there were no boats in the anchorage. It felt wrong.

The remoteness of Washington Island, the same remoteness that saved the Potawatomi and a granted a relatively easy life for the early European fisherman, is now the island’s curse.  In the 1860s, Settlers came here from Denmark and Iceland with axes, to eke out a living by logging.  In the process, they cleared the land and began farming, using fish offal for fertilizer. They grew mostly potatoes in the early years.  By the early 1900s Washington Island had 3 churches, 4 schools and one of the best co-op telephone systems in America supporting a year-round white population of more than 1,000. Even today, the island is home to one of the oldest Icelandic communities in the United States and one of the largest outside Iceland itself.  Not much happens on Washington Island these days.  But, maybe that’s not so bad.  The natural beauty of this place is largely unspoiled.  Its parks and beaches are clean and, typically, not crowded. There’s ample time on Washington Island to just sit and think, particularly in the winter!

 Washington Harbor Beach

The trip Home

We headed for home on July 1 leaving Sister Bay for Manitowoc with stops in Sturgeon Bay and Kewaunee. The weather on the trip from Sturgeon Bay to Manitowoc was mostly nice, warm and sunny.  It rained while we were in Kewaunee Harbor.  It always seems to rain when we’re there by boat!

As we cleared the Sturgeon Bay Ship Canal for the second time, it occurred to me that we were traveling along the “Schooner Coast.”  This coast, from Sturgeon Bay to Manitowoc is really the cradle of the three masted schooners, the water-based cargo haulers that supported European settlement here for more than 60 years.  The schooners were unique.  Their overall design was borrowed from the highly successful coastal sailing vessels on the Atlantic seaboard.  But the challenge here, along the Lake Michigan coast, was a bit different.  The coastal waters and harbors were shallow and sailing vessels needed to make consistent progress with the prevailing westerly and southwesterly winds. There were few roads on the coast but nearly every small settlement had a pier.  Those piers seldom extended more than 250’ from shore and had only 6-8’ of water at their end. The remnants of such a pier, at Carlton town, are visible from my deck. Kewaunee had the longest navigable natural harbor on Lake Michigan’s east coast in the 1850s. Commercial vessels traveled six miles up-river to pick up cargo and deliver supplies. 

A boat builder in Manitowoc, William Bates, attacked the problem head-on in 1851.  He modified the design of the Baltimore clipper, making it almost flat-bottomed, and adding a retractable centerboard.  A triangular sail set high on the foremast with a yardarm provided additional power downwind on the mostly sloop-rigged vessel.  The on-water performance of Bates first schooner, the Challenge, quickly established the model for the hundreds that would follow and support settlement along the Lake Michigan shoreline.  My own schooner, a model of the Lucia Simpson (She was 127’ long, with a 28’ beam and 8.7’ depth of hold and built in Manitowoc in 1875 by Rand & Burger. She carried half an acre of canvas!), sits proudly on our mantle reminding us daily of early European life along this coast. She served in the lumber trade until about 1930 making her one of the last of the full-rigged schooners to sail the Great Lakes.  She burned to the waterline in a fire that swept the Sturgeon Bay Ship Building Company dock in 1935.

 The Lucia Simpson

Perhaps the best known of the historic schooners was the Rouse Simmons, the Christmas Tree Ship.  The Rouse Simmons went down with all hands in a snowstorm off Two Rivers, WI on November 22, 1912, just 10 miles south of our home.  Her Captain, one Herman Schuenemann, grew up in Algoma, WI, just 10 miles north of Kewaunee. (Algoma was home to a number of schooner captains.) In the early 1900s, the schooners were being displaced along this coast by larger and more efficient steam powered vessels.  By the time fall arrived, the schooners had completed their contracts for hauling lumber, stone or grain.  To earn a few extra dollars, the daring among them would deliver Christmas trees from northern Wisconsin and Upper Michigan to the cities to the south, Chicago, Milwaukee, etc. From 1876-1920, more than 60 sailing vessels engaged in the Christmas tree trade on Lake Michigan.  Captain Schuenemann wasn’t just a sailor, he was also a merchant.  Instead of selling his trees to dealers in Chicago, he sold his trees to the public right off the boat.  He became a Christmas tradition on the Chicago docks near the Clark Street bridge.  When his ship went down, he became a legend.  Today, the Coast Guard brings ceremonial evergreen trees to Navy Pier every Christmas season.

I love living on this coast.  And, why not?  It’s the Schooner Coast.

We arrived at our home port on July 4^th.  It felt good to see the Badger on the eastern horizon as we rounded Rawley Point.  Old faithful, the last coal burning commercial vessel on the Great lakes, would again welcome us home as she frequently does.  I had mixed emotions as we docked.  We were not supposed to be home.  We were supposed to be in Escanaba, MI for the July 4^th Holiday.  But things don’t always work out as planned.  I was disappointed but not distraught.  Everyone is fine, I thought.  There is no damage to our boat or anyone else’s. There is no big mechanical problem to fix.  In the end, it’s a holding tank.  Nothing more.  Money and time will fix the problem.  Luckily we have enough of both!

Door County, The County Beautiful!